


Too Hot

by sexyvanillatiger



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asthma, First Time, M/M, Sex Games, before the bite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyvanillatiger/pseuds/sexyvanillatiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles play a game of <a href="http://daddyalaric.tumblr.com/post/64454101614/can-someone-please-please-write-a-sciles-fic">Too Hot</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Hot

The only reason Scott's going to win this is because Stiles has a hard time backing down. It's not so much in the way that he's got something to prove as much as he just wants to win something. It's sort of how their friendship is; video games, board games, one-on-one lacrosse.

In other words, Stiles was going to lose from the very beginning. It's not an arguable point, it just is. At some point or other, Stiles will absolutely have to move in some direction, and this compulsion will adhere to its nature and repeat itself ad infinitum until the spot in which he moves contains Scott. It's pretty much scientific.

They sit kneeling before each other, each with his hands on his respective knees. It starts with some awkward staring. This isn't like most of the other games they've played. Most of the time, a little devious truth or dare works its way up to something like this, but this. They've never just. Well. _Started making out_.

But when Stiles jerks his head a little bit forward, probably on accident, probably just a nervous twitch, Scott jerks his head forward, too. They lick their lips, probably one following the other's lead, but neither are sure who started it. Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but only regurgitates a small, weak-sounding _fuck it_ before swooping in and landing a kiss smack on Scott's front teeth.

It hurts more than their other kisses have, but after that, it's not all that bad. Just about the same as it's always been, barring the touching policy. Scott's hands grip tightly in the knees of his jeans, clamping down on the denim until it starts pulling at his fingernails.

He can almost feel Stiles moving, hands going from his knees to the floor between them to hugging his elbows in a small hold of himself. The kiss moves with him, teeth clicking and tongues catching against sharp edges as they turn their heads this way and then a little further this way and then that way, Stiles never finding a comfortable resting point. Scott can feel his neck craning, and all of the sudden twisting the other way just to keep up with Stiles. He takes in long breaths through his nose, wondering briefly what it would be like to open his eyes right about now.

But he doesn't have to. Stiles has a hand on his shoulder, and Scott jerks back with a smile as large as laughter on his face. Stiles looks ready to protest—surely there is some explanation, some exception. "Mulligan," he barks, making grabby hands for Scott's shirt, but Scott just pushes his flailing arms away and shakes his head.

"Not even, I _so_ won that."

"That—but. That's not even fair! You _knew_ that would happen!"

"You should have, too!"

Stiles scowls but almost seems to resign himself to this, his fate. He bites at his lip and turns his eyes away towards anything that's not Scott. "So…what now?"

Scott stops laughing. His smile drops, only the small curves of a grimace left behind. He hadn't really thought about this part of the game too much amongst the all-consuming thoughts of kissing Stiles again. "I…I guess…I get to do whatever—"

"I mean, what do you want to _do_?" Stiles clarifies, finally looking up and looking a little more anxious than nervous.

This definitely isn't the part of the game that Scott had thought about. What he wanted to do was kiss Stiles and win. Now that he's thinking about it, a rush of warmth fills him and he takes in a small, stuttering inhale. _No, they couldn't possibly…_. He shakes his head. "I don't know."

Sobbing out a dramatic sigh, Stiles throws his face up to the ceiling (theatrics for no extra charge). "Come on, Scott, there's got to be something. I can…I mean you can…use my mouth? Again?" he offers uncomfortably, never able to fully put in words the languages they speak fluently with their bodies.

"I don't know…I mean, we've done that before. I was thinking…" Scott shrugs his shoulders up, staring at the carpet and waiting for Stiles to just guess what he's thinking.

"Scott, buddy, stay with me here. What? What were you thinking?"

Scott looks up at him, face blank and lacking the gravity the situation demands. "I mean," he starts, shrugging his shoulders up and getting blanker as the seconds pass without him being able to articulate his desires. "I mean, we haven't really… _had sex_ yet…"

And Stiles gives him a look that tells him that he's thinking exactly what's Scott's been thinking since this whole thing entered his head. This just isn't the kind of set-up where people _do_ that. People who have sex are older, or prettier, or in relationships. They're just…messing around.

"You mean, you wanna, like…"

"Maybe?"

Stiles licks his lips, running a hand over his hair. He nods once, then punctuates it with another. "Yeah," he says, breathy, his chest suddenly rising and falling shortly but silently. "Yeah, okay. We can do that," he continues, the compulsion to speak driving him on while Scott just sits here thinking about how Stiles said yes.

"So, you've got stuff for this, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Scott rushes, jumping to his feet too quickly and almost falling right back down to his dirty floor. He momentarily forgets which drawer everything is in and in the meanwhile, Stiles starts pacing between his spot on the floor and Scott's bed. 

"Do you…" _know how to do this?_ goes unsaid between them, and when Scott turns around with lube in one hand and a condom packet in the other, he looks bewildered and shrugs.

"I think so? I mean…it goes…like…in your butt, right? And…we have to, um," Scott mutters, trying desperately to force the words off of his tongue, "stretch you. First. Right?" He makes a face like each word of this sentence tastes like cigarette ash, but at least he knows enough to not hurt his friend. Stiles seems a little bit more relaxed after Scott says this, and he actually takes a jittery seat on the bed.

"Yeah, pretty much. So. I guess I should, just." He tugs at the hem of his shirt.

"Yeah," Scott agrees, going over to the bedside table and setting down his fetched supplies.

This is nowhere near the first time they'll have seen each other naked. Still, the difference is palpable; the _knowing_ that this time is going to change everything. People don't just _lose_ their virginity. Or maybe some do, but those people aren't Stiles and Scott.

Together.

Oh god.

Scott takes a deep breath and starts pulling his own shirt off, reaching for the button on his jeans halfway through the clumsy action. By the time he climbs up onto the bed next to Stiles, they're both in their boxers, somewhat reluctant to touch each other. Somewhat reluctant to look each other in the eye.

"I guess we can start where we left off?" Scott suggests meekly, reaching a hand out to graze Stiles' waist. The muscles there clench, his abdomen scrunching up in a crude huff of giggles. He only waits for the slightest indication that Stiles is nodding before rolling over him and slotting their mouths together once more. The lazy pace is more reminiscent of what they know, slowing them back into something comfortable. Scott can still feel his heart against his chest, but now, he's glad for it. Lusting for it. Grating their bony hips together in a way that has Stiles breaking their kiss in favor of tilting his head back for air.

Scott follows the twitching point of his adam's apple with a small kiss, dipping down into the hollow below to suck at his skin, tasting the breaths that Stiles is taking there. They tangle themselves like this, Scott arching himself over Stiles the lower he goes so that their hips don't have to part; their groins stay molded against one another, hitching in small, pleasureful twitches every once in awhile. Mostly, they just lean into one another, taking their pleasure passively. Not rushing it. Staying par for the course.

Stiles' fingers curl in the flesh of Scott's shoulders, short nails barely scraping into the skin when Scott bites into the juncture of his neck. He bites a little harder there, something he knows Stiles is especially sensitive to, and he would like to say that he's not surprised when Stiles jolts beneath him, arching into strange contortions, silently tightening every muscle in his body. He would like to say that he's not surprised when Stiles comes in his boxers right against him.

He pushes himself up on his hands, smiling over Stiles like he's just won another round of their game, but softens the expression when he sees how mortified Stiles looks.

"God, I'm sorry, I was thinking about, you know, like, what we're doing, I mean, what we're about to do, and I just—you did the thing, the neck thing, and I don't know, it just—?"

Scott kisses him here, just to get him to shut up, and it's a little bit weird because Stiles tries to keep talking, though when he quiets down and his breathing goes back to normal and he actually settles long enough to let Scott kiss him, they find their pace and close with it, lips parting to leave a few inches between their faces.

"You can still—you know," Stiles offers, shrugging and dropping his hands down to play with the threads of the comforter.

"Are you sure?" Scott frowns at him, sitting up and back on his heels to reach for the condom. He pauses for a moment, waiting for Stiles to respond, but a moment stretches between them, feeling longer than it actually is, and Scott starts to lose his confidence.

"Yeah, I mean, I said you could." He seems to reconsider this, and he looks Scott in the eye when he says, "I want you to."

Getting the condom on is a little bit tricky. The box was unopened when he went digging in his drawers earlier this evening, and he's never tried to prepare phallic fruit or vegetables for safe sex in any sex ed course at school, so the moment he figures out which side is which, he hurries to get to opening the lube bottle.

Stiles flinches when the cap snaps open. Scott hesitates, but overcomes it quickly and squeezes some lube out onto his fingers. "Maybe," Stiles injects just as Scott is setting the tube down. He clears his throat and tries again. "Maybe just…warm it up a little…yeah, pretty much, just that. Yeah, and then…rub it around the…yeah, like—oh," he breathes unsteadily.

"I mean," Scott mumbles, "I've kind of seen a little bit of porn where they—is this alright?" He prods at Stiles opening, trembling beneath the weight of his finger.

"Yeah." Stiles hesitates, pushes himself up on his elbows and tilts his hips up to meet Scott's persistent finger. "This isn't really…the _first_ time I…"

Scott stops. "Are you not…? I thought we were both? Virgins? Stiles?"

Stiles laughs then, shaking his head. The finger finally slides in with a built-up momentum, throwing a wrench into his laughter, but he coughs it off and shakes his head. "No, I mean, I've…done this. To myself. Sometimes."

Oh. _Oh._ "Oh." Scott pushes the finger in a little bit deeper. "Is this alright?" He crooks it, sliding it in and out, and crooks it a different way. Stiles makes a face, obviously uncomfortable, but Scott persists. He's thought about this for awhile. He knows that it's there. He tries one more time, finger just sliding past it. _There_. He can feel it, insignificant but there, to the side of where his finger is, and he immediately shifts his course, looking up at Stiles as he presses against it.

"Yes, Scott," Stiles moans quietly, biting his lip and pushing his hips up.

Scott wonders what Stiles looked like when he did this to himself. Wonders if he looked like _this_. This awkward grace to him, legs continually shifting as his heels drag up and down the sheets, arms going from his sides to above his head to flailed out around him. Scott can feel his chest starting to constrict around his heart, his stomach twisting and curling in a nervous trapeze show.

The second finger is more difficult to get in, requiring a brief recession for more lube and a little bit of pushing on Stiles' part to get some pushing going on Scott's part. When it slides in alongside the first, Stiles lets out this unprepared grunt, like he didn't expect it to come that soon. Scott freezes and starts to pull his fingers out when Stiles shakes his head.

"I'm fine, just…I've never gotten in that…deep before."

Scott nods and turns his eyes back down to where his fingers are inside of his best friend. He doesn't know how Stiles can look him in the eye without stammering or blushing. Calming himself before proceeding, Scott pulls his fingers out slowly, listening for any signs of discomfort, and then slowly pushes them back in again. He's about to ask when he should add third one when a knock on the door has him scrambling away from Stiles altogether.

"Boys?"

"Mom!"

"Boys, I thought I told you to keep this door unlocked."

" _Mom_ , we were just—!" He stumbles here, not sure of what he's supposed to say. When he looks down, Stiles is up and alert and obviously panicked, arms out in a demanding gesture.

"You know what, I don't care what sites you boys are on, just have this door unlocked next time I come to check on you."

Scott flushes. " _Mom!_ " He doesn't know why the fact that his mom thinks he's looking at porn is more embarrassing than the fact he's about to fuck Stiles, but when he looks down and sees Stiles stifling laughter, it doesn't help.

He plunges his two fingers back in, earning a broken gasp in return, and Stiles sticks his tongue out at him but hikes his legs up, walking his heels as close to his body as he can get them. "Yeah," he mumbles, "yeah, you can—you can go deeper."

The third one isn't as hard to get in, but Stiles makes the ugliest face about it, so Scott stops. His chest heaving, thighs tired from squatting between his friend's legs for this long, fingers stiff and achy. He wants this to keep moving, but when he asks, "Are you okay?" and Stiles says,

"I've just never gotten that many in before…it kind of…hurts a little,"

he isn't sure if the right thing to do is wait and keep going or just stop. He vocalizes both options.

Stiles looks up at him for a moment, expectant, looking like he's waiting for Scott to answer a question rather than Scott waiting on him. In a moment much like a cold front on the bay, they seem to have a sudden disconnect from each other, unable to interpret whatever signals the other is sending.

"I'm fine with going on if you're fine with it." Stiles speaks slowly and carefully, as if, for once in his life, he is actually in control of what he's saying.

Scott nods vigorously. "I'm fine with it."

So when they continue, Stiles twists to spread some lube over the condom and Scott awkwardly slides up along Stiles' body. It takes them awhile to line it up right, both agreeing that they probably should have tried a different position, but it's too late now, because the head's in. Scott feels like he just got punched in the gut by a succubus. Stiles looks like he actually got punched in the gut.

"It's not that bad, just…try going really slow…you can go in a little deeper…"

Except when he does, Stiles clenches up around him and it gets really hard to move at all, and especially hard to move without hurting Stiles. Especially hard to talk, but he asks, "Are you okay?" while already knowing the answer.

"Fine," Stiles grits through his teeth, "just…gimme like, two seconds, okay?" He takes a deep breath, and then another one, and he relaxes into it, letting Scott push the rest of the way in. It's….it's wonderful. Nothing has ever felt like this before. It almost seems to take his breath away, and a moment later, it does.

"God, Stiles—inhaler—"

Stiles sits up faster than he should be able to, wincing and grimacing all the same. "What? Scott, buddy, you still with me?"

" _Stiles!_ "

"Okay, right, inhaler— _jesus_ , Scott, stop moving!" Stiles can barely twist enough to reach the bedside table, wearing an injured expression as he tries, but when he does, he goes straight for the top drawer with the inhaler placed neatly on top of a pair of Death Star-adorned briefs, uncapping it, shaking it, and passing it to Scott like they've rehearsed Scott getting an asthma attack during their first time having sex before.

Scott takes it quickly up to his mouth, pressing down and hauling in deep breaths, closing his eyes and feeling his chest open up. He vaguely feels Stiles pulling the inhaler out of his hand, hears it being set onto the table, and when his attention to Stiles returns, he's being lowered down onto Stiles, as close to chest-to-chest as they can get in this situation.

"Dude, what just happened to you?"

Scott shakes his head, closing his eyes and letting his mouth tighten with uncertainty. "I don't know. I…" He smiles then, looking at Stiles. "I guess I'm glad this happened with you."

Stiles snorts. "Yeah, anyone else would probably let you die."

Rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath for good measure, Scott lifts himself up onto his elbows. "Should we…?" And his hips twitch like a question, putting a twinge into Stiles' placated expression. "If you still want to?"

"Yeah, no, we can still…you know," he mumbles, grimacing as he shifts from side to side, shimmying his way a little more under Scott. "Just, you know, go slow."

"Yeah."

And it is slow. It looks like maybe he's torturing Stiles, like everything he does is just the bane of Stiles' existence. His stomach twists. They never should have done this. He wouldn't go back and do it another way if he could, because _God_ , he doesn't think anybody else in the world could feel as good as Stiles feels, but he doubts himself until Stiles' sour expression falls and he lets out a sigh.

"Is that? Is it…good?"

"It's getting better." He glances down at where their bodies are joined, reaches between them and touches himself. Moans like he forgot he could do this. When he looks up at Scott, it's permission. Scott takes it before either of them can reconsider.

It's better now than before. He's not worried about hurting Stiles. He thrusts freely, quickening whenever he is allowed. Stiles takes it beautifully, eyes closed, mouth parted, unbelievably silent. Incoherent, maybe. Scott licks his lips and leans in, slowly, waiting, kissing Stiles only when he's opened his eyes and reaches up for it. Vaguely, he can hear a soft rattling in the back of his mind.

He bites down on Stiles' tongue hard enough to taste copper when a knock on the door rings through the bedroom. He slams in one final time, losing it there, inside Stiles, coming with a short, punctual grunt.

"You boys not done yet? Because if you were, then this door would be unlocked, wouldn't it?"

Stiles swears quietly, cupping his mouth while Scott musters up enough self-control to sound almost normal when he says, "Sorry, mom."

"Scott? You alright? Are you having an attack?"

"He's fine, Ms. McCall," Stiles offers, sounding biting, wounded. Scott can almost see the concerned look on his mother's face. The high is just starting to leave him, leaving him trembling and weak. He slides down completely over Stiles, hiding himself in the curve of his neck.

"Oh…kay…I have a shift early in the morning, so you boys keep it down, alright?"

Briefly, Scott worries that they were loud, but he can't remember any of the noises they made, so hopefully she's just saying that because it's something mothers say. "Alright."

"See you tomorrow evening. Goodnight, boys."

The muffled, shuffling footsteps fade down the carpeted hall, but both boys listen for awhile after, trying to determine Ms. McCall's exact location. When Scott gives up, he pulls out carefully and tosses the condom away without tying it up. Curses about it when a bit of a mess splatters across the carpet outside his trash bin.

When Stiles gives up on listening, he turns to Scott with a wicked smile on his face. "Five minutes and an asthma attack. Not bad for a virgin, huh, McCall?"

Scott shoves at him, but laughs. "Shut up, _Stilinski_."

Stiles sits up a little, obviously uncomfortable but still quite determined, and Scott realizes that Stiles is hard again, leaking a little bit against the bottom of his stomach. His mouth twists in an apologetic smile, but when he shrugs his shoulders up, he's still expecting something.

"So what now? You're still the winner, Scotty-boy."

Right. Scott had forgotten. He stares at Stiles' erection, bites at his lip, wondering what he could possibly do. His stomach twists, knowing what he wants, but when he looks up at Stiles, he questions himself. "Do I have to do it to you…or can I just have you do something?"

Stiles cocks his head back a little, considering. Smirking, "Does it matter?"

Scott shrugs. "You could…finger yourself until you come."

The proposition sits between them silently for a moment, and then, without a word, Stiles slides down onto his back, opens his legs and slides his fingers between them. Scott thinks maybe his diaphragm is shriveling up, leaving him wasted to Stiles' sudden allure. How has he never seen his friend like this before?

When his fingers slip inside, it seems as though nothing has ever breached him before. Scott bites his lip and feels his dick giving a persistent twitch below, trying to answer the curling desire in his gut. Stiles gives a low moan, probably more for show, but it works. Scott leans forward, getting a better view, reaching hand out and touching Stiles. Wrapping his fingers around him. "Can I?"

Stiles nods hard enough to knock his head off. "Yeah."

It ends like that, with Stiles' fingers as deep inside of himself as he can get them, Scott jacking him slowly, in time with Stiles' own hand, and Scott wishes that maybe he'd been kissing him. Maybe it would be make whatever is happening here more tangible. But he isn't; he's leaning back to get a better view, almost surprised when Stiles gasps out a quiet orgasm. Something so unlike Stiles. Scott catalogues every moment of it for later remembrance.

Stiles sits up a little bit, grimacing down at himself as the mess seems more of a nuisance than anything. "I guess we should clean up and unlock the door."

Scott laughs, and while it doesn't feel forced, it doesn't feel authentic. Stiles smiles, though, and it warms him. "Yeah, probably."

It's not as messy as it looked. Maybe the carpet's going to be a different sort of a trick, but he'll figure it out later. Right now, Stiles has his clothes on again and he seems an entirely different creature than the boy who was just in Scott's bed. They have game controllers in their hands, but they're not really playing. Stiles is trying to convince Scott that yes, it is totally possible that he got some come in his hair, it's happened before while masturbating, but Scott finds it a little bit incredulous.

"It's perfectly normal, man. Just because you haven't done it…"

"So are we gonna do that again?"

Stiles looks at him, gives him a look, slight smile twitching at his lips. Without missing a beat, "Well, yeah. I mean, nobody else has realized what a catch I am, so I guess I'm stuck with you."

They bump shoulders, Scott's subtle retaliation, and they laugh. "Yeah, you've still got me."


End file.
